Post by Alexander Devin on Mar 17, 2018 0:41:12 GMT -5
”And those who stand in my way, they will burn. Those who walk beside me, they shall be reborn.”
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”At long last, after many sad attempts, I am finally free to introduce myself to the world at hand.”
That’s the voice you hear as the scene opens to a shot of a large white house situated in some quiet part of some neighborhood that you can’t quite figure out. At least not yet. The sun is shining overhead, birds tweet in the sky over head, and there’s a slight breeze rustling through the trees to add to this ‘picture’ perfect day. Footsteps take you to the back of the house, to the porch area where you find a man sitting under an umbrella in a chair with his feet propped up on a small stool in front of him. One hand is resting on a book that sits on this table with the umbrella attached to it, the other is lightly gripping the arm rest of his chair. He’s surveying the backyard with a quiet eye, not really saying much, even with the camera pointed straight at him. In fact, he stays quiet for the next several minutes.
He sighs deeply, shifting around in his chair to get comfortable. Eyes still staring out into the afternoon horizon. There’s another few minutes of silence before he finally starts to speak again.
”I have…been away from this part of the world far longer than I should have been. My actions up until now haven’t been a reflection of the true person I am, the truth that I seek to visit upon the world with my arrival. I’m not the typical kind of person who wanders these hallowed halls like lost souls, pressing upon others their insecurities and fears, trying to find that champion among the sea of people that will lead them into the light.”
Alexander chuckled softly, tapping his fingers on the book his left hand was resting on.
”So many people, so many looking for that one voice to speak to them the truth, to show them the way of things and shatter their perceptions of the normalcy of life. Show them that what they think, and hear, is not the way of things. That’s where I come in. A soul who seeks to give to the masses what they need. What they’ve needed to hear for quite a long time.”
He falls silent for a few minutes more, contemplating what to say next. The whole of the world was watching him carefully this time, and he didn’t want to disappoint the waiting people. There had been too many mistakes made up to this point, and the eyes of Salvation were heavy upon his soul. Upon everything he did. Nemesis was his own person, but he was a person who didn’t tolerate failure from those in the group. Alexander had every motive to do what he could to make a good impression this time around, and hope that Nemesis would be impressed for the time being.
”I see people sitting there in front of their televisions, in front of their tablets and phones, watching the matches over and over like enticing candy pouring out. Wondering why they should ever get behind a man like me. My worthwhile isn’t exactly at the standards of those at the top, the superheros of the Underground. They would rather listen to them rattle off whatever fables and tales that will lull them into a false world, then listen to someone like me who will paint the truth, the stark real reality of things.”
He starts to hum a few bars of a song you can’t recognize at the moment, a small smile on his face.
”My soul years to reach out to others, to speak to them what I know, what I’ve seen, and what I have yet to learn. I can see the birds in the sky flying to their own destinations, and I look down and see Alyssa Daniels watching those same birds fly in the sky, wondering how to gain the freedom like they have and arrive at that simple destination without a care. She’s a simple person, someone who was placed into this situation, someone who was placed in my graces to bear witness to the words that I will place on her shoulders. She will be one of the first to hear what I have to say. I hope that she is listening right now, because I am a person who hates to repeat himself.”
He falls silent for a few minutes more, humming that same song from before. The birds continue to tweet merrily, and the breeze was pleasant. He reached up and adjusted the fedora on his head, stopping his humming and continuing to talk.
”I come from the hustle and bustle of New York City, where nothing ever sleeps. Where the tale of The Prophet really begins. Where this simple dream, became a reality. I trained under the best teachers, learning the craft, learning how to do things right. Learning how to best spread the word to those that were eager to listen. Those that didn’t listen were properly…dealt with. I don’t waste time with those who cannot understand what I have to say. I understand that there are those who refuse to accept the real reality of things, those who are so ingrained in this falsehood that has been placed before them that they refuse anything else told to them. They want to believe the cute fluffy tales told to them by mommy and daddy.”
Alexander chuckles again.
”Alyssa Daniels, you and I have never met personally. But you have been placed in the position to hear what I have to say face to face. To judge my words first hand and decide for yourself whether or not you want to continue to live in the land of dreams and fairy tales, or follow the words of someone who shatters the reality of fairy tales. There are such things as monsters, but some can be ones that you would do best to trust when the world falls apart. When we finally meet in front of that crowd of people, I will fully reveal myself to the world, and the rest of everyone what exactly…who exactly I am. A man of many words, the voice of the people.
The Prophet.
Tell me, dear Alyssa. Will you take the time to listen, or will you go back to your land of fairy tales and continue to dream.”
Alexander smiles, humming that song again as the camera backs off, things fuzzing and fading to black.
The man hadn’t had anything to eat. He wears a long, khaki colored coat with stains and some patchwork throughout. An old, worn western hat rests upon his head. He staggers into the alley, weak from starvation. Too many times he put his hand out and people just walked by, just ignored him. Even nearby, there was another man asking for change and looking so pitiful. That man, however, had a nice car parked around the block that he left in each day. He was one of those that deter otherwise charitable souls from contributing what they can. This man, the one in the coat and hat, didn’t have two nickels to rub together and improvement didn’t appear to be in sight for him.
The man limps forward into the alleyway and stumbles. He’s able to avoid the fall by putting an arm up and bracing himself against a nearby metal door. He leans there for a moment, his hand pressed to the door, and begins sobbing. Eventually, everyone breaks. It’s not a weakness, it’s an inevitability. He felt frozen having endured the cold for months with nothing but his tattered coat. His body was weak due to the lack of sustenance.
He had no idea what to do about it.
“Here.”
The man looks up, pain in his eyes. They widen as they lock onto the source of the voice. What he sees is a girl with bright magenta hair and a warm smile. She holds out a large paper bag. The man looks at it skeptically and back to the girl.
“It’s OK,” the girl reassures him. “This is for you!”
The man reaches for the bag and carefully takes it from the girl’s hand. He looks inside and again his eyes widen.
“S-Sandwiches,” he stammers.
“Yep! For you, and whoever else you know that could need some food.”
“But… I’ve got no money,” he replies hopelessly.
“I know that, silly! It’s why I got you the bag of sandwiches!”
The man hugs the bag close, his eyes beginning to well up.
“Bless you! I… I don’t know how much longer… Just... Thank you!”
With that, the man hobbles off deeper into the alley, his new bag of sandwiches clutched to his chest. Alyssa Daniels, the girl with the magenta hair, watches him go with a satisfied smile. Once he is out of sight, Alyssa turns her attention to where the man fell. She steps up to the door, a look of curiosity on her face. She examines the surface and finds the place where the man’s hand pressed against the door. His handprint is still visible, the warmth pressing against the cold.
“It’s one of the few things that makes a person unique,” she points out as she looks at the fingerprints.
She tilts her head, continuing to examine the handprint. She places her hand near the handprint but did not press it against the door. Her hand is smaller than the print.
“When I found out that I was accepted by Union Battleground, I was ecstatic. I mean, this is where the best of the best from all over come to do battle! Finn Whelan is a World Champion at WWH, Emery Layton is XWA Supreme Champion, Kimitsu Zombie was the 4CW Pride Champion, Elina Cartel is our Elysium Hybrid Champion, and the list goes on. It was an honor, but now…”
Alyssa traces the outline of the handprint on the door with her index finger.
“Now, I have a very different purpose than just friendly competition. Now, I’m here as a soldier to fight back against these demons that would twist this world for its own selfish ends. But I do not fight this fight because of the evil it presents to Union Battleground. No, I fight…”
Alyssa slams a fist against the door, the thud resounding loudly from the metal surface.
“For family!”
Alyssa takes a deep breath and calms herself.
“Alexander Devin. One hyena in a pack. One fingerprint on the infamous bloody hand. Let me ask you something, Alex: what makes you truly unique? I mean, sure, we’re all paying attention to the mystique that is Salvation, but as a singular part, what value do you bring? Are you the prophet you proclaim yourself to be? Or are you a sheep, bringing it in just to be part of the herd? No, you’re totally the prophet.”
Alyssa taps her chin and furrows her brow. She eyes the handprint in contemplation.
“Prophet, prophet, prophet…”
She uses the hand upon her chin to gesture to the handprint.
“But you are unique, Alex. When I look at the four of you that have been here for more than a minute, I see very clear differences. I see Nemesis, the mastermind of the gang and the undefeated Union Battleground Champion. I see Tommy Crimson, also undefeated and the kidnapper of Elysium’s owner, Kelly Godless. I see Viduus Morta, a former 4CW Extreme Champion who has left many victims in his wake. Then there’s… You.”
Alyssa shakes her head in disappointment.
“You are unique, Alex, a notable fingerprint on the evil hand that grips this company by the throat. You are the pinky, the weak link that can be broken. Look around that dark basement where you and your fellow Salvation members hold your meeting. Look every man in the eye. Every single fingerprint in that room and yours… Well, it doesn’t compare. You have lost twice as many matches as those other three combined. You alone. You and all your uniqueness.”
She reaches into her coat pocket and withdraws a white cloth.
“Your fingerprint on Salvation.”
Alyssa uses that cloth to wipe away the pinky finger from the handprint on the door. She then nods in satisfaction as she returns the cloth to her pocket.
“You have been proclaimed a man who is intelligent beyond his years. And perhaps beyond what anyone will give you credit for, you’ve proven to be exactly that. The Boogeyman came to town and you dove behind them, hoping they’d protect you, hoping you wouldn’t be their next victim. But aside from Xion Ben-Judah, what have you contributed to their efforts? Failure. After failure. Now I want you to put that vast intelligence of yours to use once more. Think about Kreature. Think about how they burnt him alive after he failed to defeat XBJ. Now think about Sinister, about Camila Martinez. Think about how they were buried alive for failing to capture the Battalion Championships.”
Alyssa points to the spot where the pinky once was, removed by the cloth.
“And think about your fingerprint. Think about the mark you’re leaving on the supposedly pristine face of Salvation. How long until they wipe that mark off, just like they’ve done before? How long until they see you as a liability instead of an asset? Think about it, Alex. I went to war with Elina Cartel. We tore the damn building down in Phoenix! Meanwhile, you lasted… What? A few minutes with her? You swung those clubs around like the barbarian you are and she just outwitted you and caught you once to keep you down. She and Flash Kassidy are not losses to be ashamed of, if you were any normal person. But as a member of Salvation? That might as well be career suicide. Then you come face-to-face with me and honey, it ain’t gettin’ any easier.”
She pulls out the white cloth again and wipes the rest of the handprint clean. She pockets it once more before brushing away some stray hair.
“I don’t know how you’ll view me. Weak. Delicate. A stepping stone. Let this serve as your warning: I’m none of those things. I’m an athlete, someone whose entire life has been about this sport. You can run around here like a caveman if you want but that ring ain’t Geico. If you’re looking for easy, you won’t find it at the Battleground. So think long and hard about your past, your present, and your future. When I beat you at Lights Out and you have to answer to your master?”
Beat.
“That fingerprint of yours might get wiped clean.”
Alyssa puts her hands into her pockets and turns to walk away as the camera zooms in on the metal door.
